Learned from my dad

By Larry Kiewel of St. Peter

I learned a lot of things from my dad. That was how the world worked in the 1950s when I was growing from one to 10 years of age. It was a little different in the 1960s. In those years of my growing from 10 to 20 years of age, I added teachers from all over that were not my dad. But now I am as old as my father’s oldest age. What I learned and who I learned it from seems important.

Larry Kiewel with his dad Bob, son Christopher, and grandson Benjamin. Contributed photo

My Dad had many skills that went along with subsistence farming. Milking cows, growing and harvesting crops, animal husbandry, carpentry, and mechanics could all be listed on his resume. He worked a list of non-farm jobs to keep six children fed and clothed and equipped with musical instruments and livestock for 4-H projects. Being the oldest, I often received whatever lesson my dad had received at work while we were doing barn chores together.

My dad got a job with Rahr Malting in Shakopee. We were milking 12 cows. Dad would do the morning chores. I would do the evening chores. We would work together on the weekends. One of those Saturdays while we were cleaning barn, my dad informed me there was a correct and an incorrect way to run a push broom. I was sweeping by pushing the broom ahead and lifting the broom at the end of the stroke. This caused the bristles to fling the sweepings ahead. This is wrong. The correct way was to push the broom ahead, stop the forward motion, and then lift the broom. This prevents the bristles from flinging the sweepings into the air. I had trouble seeing the difference, but I followed orders and corrected all of my siblings as soon as I got the chance.

In chemistry and physics classes in high school and college I learned why the foreman had corrected my dad and the correction had been passed down to me. Grain elevators and processors like Rahr Malting live in fear of dust explosions. Flicking grain dust into the air is dangerous, according to my professors. The professors taught me the intellectual why, but dad gave me the physical real-world truth that I could live by. I didn’t get much history or theology or philosophy from my dad, but he laid foundations of truth in action.

I call myself an agrarian poet. I write something every week online. I stand on firm ground from my reading, my instructors, and my experiences. But mostly I am grounded because my father taught me the truth that exists in correctly sweeping a floor.